Bittersweet
by Roxy206
Summary: Thoughts of short, failed relationships filled her head: trysts that never matured into anything meaningful; relationships that lacked a certain passion. Then a phrase stuck in her head: Any way you wanna do it, I’d support you.


His sweet, indescribable smell lingered.

On her shirt, on her arms, on her neck. She closed her eyes and could feel him in her arms. It was a perfect fit. She breathed in the scent, her heartstrings pulling as she did. There was something hollow in her, waiting to be filled. And she had so much to give.

She opened her eyes, hoping they hadn't been closed for too long. She smiled, but any one could tell that it was forced. Why she had accepted an invitation to a baby shower, she didn't know. As much as she hated to admit it, she had no desire to celebrate the impending birth of someone else's child. The thought was depressing as hell, actually.

Then there were the women who already had children, parading them around for everyone to see. It was as if they were saying, look at what you're missing. As if she didn't already know. But when one woman had caught her looking at her baby, she couldn't catch the words before they flew out of her mouth. _Can I hold him?_

It was one of the stupidest questions she had ever asked. She couldn't believe she was willingly putting herself through this. When she was younger, she had always volunteered to take babies from tired mothers' arms. However, as she advanced in years and that biological clock began its deafening tick, she tended to stay away. It was too painful to hold a child, knowing that she might never have one of her own.

Thoughts of short, failed relationships filled her head: trysts that never matured into anything meaningful; relationships that lacked a certain passion. Then a phrase stuck in her head: _Any way you wanna do it, I'd support you._ She remembered that exchange as if it had happened yesterday. Mr. Sperm himself had offered to help her if she wanted to have a child. She knew that he meant it as a friend, as a source of support. Still, she couldn't help but run through the possibilities: a little boy or girl; a combination of the two of them. The image was one that stuck in her mind.

Not that it would ever happen. He had a wife, one who would most likely kick Elliot out of the house again before allowing him to donate sperm to _her_. And any other possibility, well, it just wasn't an option. Besides, she would never be able to have a child who reminded her of Elliot. It would be adding insult to injury.

Another image popped into her mind: Eli clutched in her arms in an ambulance. Since she was already admitting things she hated thinking, the topic was bound to come up. Never had holding a child brought her more pain. It wasn't the fact that she was physically in pain due to the car accident. Nor was it the fact that the child's mother was lying on a stretcher in the ambulance, on the verge of death. It was the fact that the child was seemingly the reason that Elliot had gone back to Kathy. At the very least, he was physical proof that even when they were separated, their relationship hadn't ended. She felt guilty for harboring such a hatred for an innocent child, but she couldn't help it. He represented the loss of opportunity.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another woman toting a baby asking, "Would you like to hold her?"

A sad smile spread across her face as she held out her arms. The baby was asleep, her little body rising and falling against Olivia's chest. She slid her pinky finger under the baby's hand, and the baby grabbed onto it. Gently rocking the baby, she got up and walked around the room. When she felt her eyes begin to tear up, she quickly found the mother. She said her goodbyes and wished the mom-to-be well before leaving.

The cold air stung as the tears slid down her cheeks. While she wasn't one for crying in public, she knew there was no holding back. However, one of the perks of living in such a crowded city was that she was anonymous and virtually invisible. She breezed past people, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts. No one stopped her to ask if she was okay.

As she walked, the fresh air and her pace helped her steady and control her breathing. The tears slowed. A dull ache settled in her head from the strain. When she finally rounded the corner and her building was in sight, she let out a sigh. She took her time walking up the street and then up the stairs to her apartment, wondering why she was so glad to be back. There was no one in the empty apartment to greet her.

She took her time washing her face, washing away the slight tear stains. Looking in the mirror, she could still see the evidence: red, puffy eyes; flushed face; vacant stare. She glanced at the clock and shrugged to herself. It might be too early for bed, but what did it matter?

An empty bottle of beer and a deli container sat on the table in front of her. She flipped through the channels on the television, trying to find something halfway decent to try to get her mind off of things. This scene played itself out so often that she wasn't sure if she was in the present or thinking about the past.

Frustrated, she turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the couch. Maybe it would be easier if she had someone to talk to, someone who could engage her in conversation so that she could think of something, anything else. She looked around the apartment. No; still no one there. She sighed as she got up and stretched. The gun and badge laid out on the countertop caught her eye. She had requested the day off, but she might as well go in and do some paperwork. The chances for discussion were vastly greater there than at her apartment.

With her gun holstered and her badge displayed on her belt, she walked into the precinct. Before setting her eyes on the cluttered desk, she saw his turned out chair and glowing desk lamp. She stopped in her tracks, doe eyes wide. _Shit._ She hadn't planned on him being here. She figured since she was off, he'd be catching with Fin or Munch, not sitting there finally deciding to do some paperwork.

"Hey, Liv," she heard over her shoulder.

_Shit._

Now she couldn't leave.

"Hi," she said as she moved toward her desk. She hoped that he wasn't in the mood to talk, although that was a mood which usually escaped him.

"What are you doing in? I thought you took off."

_Damn it!_

"I did." She started rearranging the pens on her desk, looking for a way out of this conversation. She was hoping for Munch or Fin, even Cragen.

"What, couldn't find a show to peak your interest?"

"Elliot, I have things I need to do, okay?"

He stared at her for a second before shifting his gaze. Silence settled between them. Elliot went back to his file while Olivia pushed some around on her desk. She wasn't really in the mood to do any work, but she couldn't very well give up now and leave. The files really did need her attention; they were stacking up at an alarming rate. Opening the first file she laid her hands on, she tried to concentrate. She heard him shift in his chair and glanced up at him. His forehead was creased and he was chewing on his lip.

She could do this; she could sit across from him. She had done it for over ten years. The truth was that when her resistance ran low, she also ran. She had run to computer crimes, she had run to Oregon, she had run away from SVU. She ran away from him, but he was always there in the end. She could never really get away from him. He was ingrained in her. Being separated from him, not knowing what he was doing or being able to interact with him, just made it harder on herself. So she could do this, she would do this.

He shifted again in his chair, this time glancing at her. Her eyes flickered down, papers ruffling under her hand.

"Liv?"

She looked back up and met his gaze. There was a question in his eyes, which caused her to sigh. She could do this, but not if he questioned her. Not if he made things difficult.

"Elliot." The words came out as a strangled whisper. "Not now." She'd rather just forget about the baby situation. That was why she had come into work anyway.

"Now," he challenged. There was something in her voice, something in her eyes, and it was bothering him.

"No, not here," she told him.

He stood up and pointedly stared at her before heading in the direction of the crib. She watched as he walked away and then leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. The beginning of a headache slowly pounded above her eyes. For the second time that day, she forced herself to breathe normally.

His back was turned to her when she finally reached the crib. She leaned against the doorway, looking at his tight shoulders. Feeling her presence, he turned to face her. She knew she shouldn't be, but she was drawn to him even like this. Slowly she approached him, the distance breaking just as their silence did.

"Liv, what's wrong?"

"Really, Elliot?"

"No, Liv. I know … I know that you won't … talk to me –"

"Talk to _you_? Like you ever talk to _me_?"

"Liv –"

"Do you need a list of what you've kept from me? What about your mother?"

He stood there silently, his hands flexing in his pockets. It was all the invitation she needed and she lit into him.

"Your mother, Elliot! I thought the woman was dead because you don't talk about her, ever. Then all of a sudden I find out she's alive. Not to mention whatever's going on in your marriage! You put me in the middle of that shit without even telling me what's going on. I don't know why I would expect you to tell me though. And that's just as of late, Elliot. You constantly keep things from me, constantly! This is so far removed from what you keep from me!"

She had paced with every word, but she stilled as she waiting for his response.

While her voice was harsh and had escalated, his was soft and low. "Olivia, whatever's going on with you, whatever's going on with you right now is different. I just want to know, in case there's anything I can do."

"I'm fine," she told him. She was done. Done with this, done with whatever game he was playing.

Before she reaches the door he has her exit blocked.

"No, you're not. I know you're not fine, and I'm asking why. I can help you."

She laughed.

"No, Elliot, I don't think you can."

He took a step closer to her. He was toeing the line.

"I know … I know that I haven't been very good at this – at being around for you, at being your friend. But, I'm trying."

"No, you're not. You're so wrapped up in your life that you don't see what's going on in mine." Her eyes flickered over his. "You just, you don't see … me."

The weight of it all was bearing down on her. Giving in, she sat down on the bed with her face in her hands. She felt his leg brush against hers and sharply sucked in a breath. She physically turned from him, not able to face him head on, even if it was buried in her hands.

"I know it seems like that sometimes, but it's not true. Sometimes I get wrapped up in my shit. And then I don't know how to talk to you about what's going on in your life. I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing, Liv. So I know that I go on like everything's happening to me and nothing's happening to you, but it's because I just don't know what to do. It's not fair of me to leave it all on you, but I have to."

The ball was in her court. That always seemed to be the case, but it felt like there had been some shift, brief as it may have been. He had taken the ball, dribbled it a few times, and then shot it back to her. All she needed to know was that he was still in the game.

"The baby shower, it wasn't a good idea to go." Her words were muffled through her hands. "I want it so bad, Elliot, but I'm almost at the point of giving up. It's not going to happen for me. I'll never have that."

Her breath hitched when his arm slid over her shoulder. She was already at the point of tears, and one fell between her fingers.

"I know how bad you want it, Liv. Just don't give up. You would make such a good mother."

She shrugged her shoulder out from under his touch and straightened, her hands falling into her lap. Through tear-streaked eyes she looked up at him. The pain was etched across her face, in every feature. Looking at her, he soaked in her expression. It made him want to reach out to her even more than before, but he resisted. It was easier than hiding the confusion on his face.

"Do you just store these lines and wait until I'm at the breaking point? You can't say that to me. I know I would make a good mother. Not all of us get what we want, Elliot. That might be hard to realize, with your five kids and all, but I didn't get that chance and I probably never will. I just wish you would get your head out of your ass and see what you do to me when you say things like that. It's hard enough to know, to hear them from anyone else. It's even worse to hear them coming from you. So don't tell me that I would make a good mother, don't tell me that I'm a great catch, don't tell me that the adoption agency is crazy for not accepting me, and you sure as hell better not tell me that you would do anything to help me, because you can't. You can't, Elliot, because you're married. You have five kids and you have Kathy. I don't fit in there, _anywhere_."

Her eyes closed and her head dropped. Despite seeing her wracked with what he thought was every emotion possible as she dealt with her demons, this was an all-time low. It looked like she was shutting down and he was afraid that he was the cause. This was his worst fear. He knew that she was strong. Hell, she was the strongest person he knew. Life had not been kind to her, yet she persevered. Through it all she came out a better person. He wasn't being self-centered or egotistic, thinking that he could be the one to bring her down. He had to hope that it wasn't too late.

She didn't look up until she heard the door shut behind him.

It took her a good long time to collect herself. She felt like she was moving through so many stages all at once: denial, anger, and acceptance. She sat there, wishing that she could just get up and get the hell out of there. At that point, she didn't care who saw her or what they thought. Yet she waited until it all washed over her.

She could see that the lamp on his desk was off. Not that she expected that he would stick around after that. She still couldn't believe that she let him get to her, let him take that last bit of her. It wasn't that there was something hollow in her; it was that she was hollow. Her whole life something was constantly being chipped away. Well, the next time that pick struck out it wouldn't make a sound. There was nothing left.

Something on her desk caught her eye as she approached her chair. There was a note, presumably from Elliot. It wasn't so much the note, but something peeking out beneath it.

_Liv,_

_You've always fit._

_El_

After reading the note, she pushed it aside with her index finger. She picked up the shiny object, hooking it with her finger. The shiver down her spine had nothing to do with the cold material that slid down her finger. Although the fact that it was cold certainly had something to do with it. Not only was it off his finger then, but it had been off his finger for quite some time.

She tried to remember the last time she had seen the ring on his finger. Images of Elliot flooded her mind, but his left hand blurred in all of them. Once he had put it back on, she had stopped paying attention. It seemed like such a worthless cause.

Yet his wedding band was around her finger. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, the pace slowly increasing. She closed her eyes, her left hand closing over the ring on her right. It felt like she was getting something back. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it wasn't such a worthless cause after all.

She felt the smile crack across her face and opened her eyes.


End file.
